He's Not Here
by Mrs. Trickster Queen
Summary: Karen was already suspicious of Natalie Goodman, the only person who could beat Karen out for valedictorian. But when Karen goes to the Goodman household for a school project and sees the ghost of Natalie's dead brother, that's when she truly starts getting weirded out. T for language.


**Well, I know there are so many Gabe/OCs out there, but I couldn't resist writing one more **** I will try to keep him in character, and introduce this new character as plausibly as possible. Thank you so much for giving this fanfic a try! Review if you can, even if it's just to say "Hey." I don't mind negative reviews as long as they're constructive, and any reviews at all motivate me! So yeah, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but what my own imagination came up with!**

**(Just so you know, I'm going with the original Broadway cast for the canon characters, in case you're wondering)**

"Karen Stromberg and Natalie Goodman," Mr. Hoffman called out. Karen raised her head, searching out her partner for the project. A girl with frizzy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail made eye contact with Karen, then let her forehead fall back onto her desk.

Natalie Goodman was a bit of a legend in the school. A talented musician and A+ student, it was widely acknowledged that she would either go to college a year early or sweep the rest of the class for valedictorian. She was the bane of Karen's existence, actually. As a student who got mostly A's, Karen was always second best in comparison to Natalie. It was beyond the girl how Natalie still functioned. Every class Goodman took was an AP class, and she always seemed to be studying. When she wasn't working on homework or memorizing facts for a test, Natalie could always be found in the music room, letting her fingers flow across the keyboard's slightly too bouncy keys and practicing for her Yale audition in a couple of months. She had no friends, no social life, and it wasn't much of a surprise. Karen would rather have time to relax then be perfect grade-wise and be as stressed as Natalie seemed to be all the time. Either way, she admired the girl for her work ethic. Most people would have gone insane way before junior year.

"You each will be able to choose your own topic," Hoffman continued, "of your personal interests. Write at least three pages of notes, typed, MLA format, each." He began to pass out sheets of paper. "Then you'll have to run an experiment, write an essay, or something like that pertaining to your topic. At the end of three weeks, you will be expected to present this in front of the class."

Karen raised an eyebrow, topics already running through her mind. Gender-based stereotyping, public education vs. private school; there were so many social problems to pick from. Hoffman was notorious for his research projects, but they were exactly why Karen loved social studies class so much.

"This project will require some out of school study time, so plan to get your social plans cleared. I want your topics by tomorrow!" The bell rang. Chairs scraped and voices rose as people met up, discussing what their projects would be on or how unfair the deadline was. Karen wove her way to where Natalie was still gathering her books.

"Hey," she said loudly over the commotion. "What were you thinking?"

Natalie gave her a surprised look. "Um, meet me after school around the music room and we can talk about it then," she said, brushing past the girl. Karen watched as she disappeared into the crowd, suddenly realizing that collaborating with Natalie Goodman might present more of a challenge then she previously anticipated.

The hallway leading into the music department was empty when Karen arrived. A steady melody streamed from one of the practice rooms. Carefully, Karen pushed the door open to see Natalie focusing on her fingers, which were flying across the piano with a determined air. A slight ping of a wrong note sounded. "Fuck!" Natalie cried, slamming her hands down, and raising her head to see Karen standing by the door.

"I'm sorry, I can come back later," Karen edged, pulling her backpack strap higher onto her shoulder. Natalie sighed and shook her head.

"No, it's fine."

"You're really good," Karen continued, gesturing to the piano. Natalie shrugged.

"I'm very far from perfect on a very difficult piece. Good isn't good enough." She pulled a notebook out of her bag. "So. The project."

"Yeah. I was thinking of doing something like bullying or maybe racial profiling?" Karen began. Natalie shifted slightly uncomfortably.

"Actually, do you mind if we do something a little bit different?" she asked quietly. A tiny bit annoyed, Karen frowned.

"What were you thinking?"

"Bipolar depressive disorder." Natalie swallowed. "Namely, the progression in one patient and the passage from one generation to the next."

Karen tilted her head. "Yeah. That sounds like a pretty good topic. What made you think of it?"

"Nothing," Natalie said. She turned back to her piano. "Do you mind?"

"Oh. No." Karen awkwardly waited a few seconds. "Um, when do you want to meet again?"

"When are you free?" Natalie asked, not looking up from her sheet music.

"Any time is fine, but can we meet at your house? Mine's a little hectic." Karen laughed, trying to imagine a productive studying session with her three little siblings, all under the age of five, running around.

"Um…" Natalie bit her lip. "I don't know…"

"Don't worry, I'm not judgmental," Karen laughed.

"I don't know if that would work," Natalie said. Her voice, although quiet, held a definitive edge that made Karen pause before pushing a little more.

"I promise, I won't make a big deal of it," Karen cajoled. Natalie sighed.

"Fine. Tomorrow after school, meet me here."

No one had ever been to the Goodman household, as far as Karen knew, so she was a bit anticipatory as she walked with Natalie towards the two-story house. It seemed fairly average from the outside, but when Natalie hesitated before opening the door, Karen was filled with an unexplainable sense of trepidation.

Despite Natalie's worry, the inside was actually very nice. A small foyer, with a staircase leading up to the first floor. A small dining room area leading directly into a kitchen, another staircase right behind it. There was something slightly chaotic about the space, something Karen couldn't quite put a finger on. The place wasn't messy, although there was the odd tie on the back of a chair, a spot of jelly on the floor- but this wasn't what Karen was thinking of. There was an odd feeling in the air.

"We can sit here," Natalie said, not making eye contact with the other girl. She slid into one of the dining room seats, gesturing to the other one. Karen frowned.

"Um, that's occupied," she said, wondering if Natalie was a bit slower then she let on. The frizzy-haired brunette gave Karen an odd look.

"It's an empty chair," she enunciated as though Karen was a small child. Karen raised an eyebrow.

"There's a guy sitting right there," the blonde protested. The teenager, a handsome guy with light brown hair and light brown eyes, looked up suddenly.

"She can't see me," he said, frowning. "Odd."

"Yeah, it's odd," Karen snapped. "Is there something wrong with her?"

"Who are you talking to?" Natalie asked, a harsh edge creeping into her tone. Karen threw her hands into the air.

"The guy right there! That- what's your name?" she asked the boy, exasperated. He raised an eyebrow.

"Gabe."

"Gabe," Karen finished. Natalie turned white as a sheet.

"Who told you that?" she hissed.

"The guy! Are you blind or something? He's right there!"

"No I'm not," Gabe said, amused. "She can't see me because I shouldn't actually be here."

"What do you mean, you shouldn't be here?" Karen cried.

"Stop!" Natalie shouted. "I don't know what you think you're doing…."

"Well, the only person who's ever been able to see me is my mom," the boy said matter-of-factly. "She's the only reason I'm alive."

"…but it's not funny!" Natalie pointed to the door. "Leave. Now."

"Are you trying to make me think I'm crazy or something?" Karen asked, indignant. "Well, it's not going to work. You can just tell your…"

"Brother," Gabe supplied helpfully, staring at the girl.

"Brother, then, that this is over."

"You asked around?" Natalie asked, deadly quiet. "How else could you have known that I had a brother named Gabe? You probably asked people why I wanted to do a project on bipolar depressive disorder, didn't you?"

"Had?" Karen asked. "He's right there!"

"He died when he was eighteen months old, you sicko!" Natalie cried. "Before I was even born. So if you think it would be funny to make fun of Natalie Goodman, the freak with the crazy-ass mother, just get out."

"I'm not…"

"Get out!"

Gabe stood up. "Nat. Nat, I'm right here."

"He's right there!" Karen cried.

"Natalie, look at me!"

"Look at him!"

Gabe swore and stalked away. Karen watched him go with an open mouth. "I'm leaving."

"Good!"

"I'll do the project on my own."

"I'll do it."

"Um, no. I'll do it."

Gabe peeked around the corner again and rolled his eyes. "Stupid nerds," he mumbled. "Fighting over who gets to do the project."

"Shut up," Karen snapped, glaring at Gabe. He threw up his hands and disappeared around the corner. Natalie stared at her in disbelief.

"Really? You're gonna keep that up?"

"Look, I don't care how long you deny it, or even if you never admit that you have a brother. It's childish and ridiculous, but whatever. The point is, we have a project due in three weeks, and I don't plan on getting an F. So we'd better get it done."

"Whatever," Natalie grumbled. She bent down and pulled out a notebook, flipping to a blank page. "So, let's divvy up the work."

A crash from upstairs sent Natalie scrambling to her feet. "Mom!" she cried. Glancing at me, she bit her lip. "Um. I'll be back." Swearing under her breath, she rushed upstairs. Karen leaned back in her chair, then quietly stood and edged closer to the stairs, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"It's fine, Natalie. Your brother just startled me, that's all," a woman said, her voice floating gently to Karen's straining ears.

"Mom, have you been taking your meds?" Natalie asked. The woman sighed.

"They make me nauseous."

"You have to take them. Here." The sound of pills falling out of a bottle trickled down the steps. "Mom."

"I don't want to."

"Ugh! You know what? Let Dad deal with you." The sound of Natalie stomping away prompted Karen to sprint back to her seat, crossing her legs and trying to slow her breathing. Natalie appeared a few moments later, her cheeks flushed. "You need to go now. I'm sorry."

Privately, Karen thought that she didn't sound at all sorry, but she didn't argue the point. "Alright. See you tomorrow then."

Natalie didn't answer and Karen let herself out.

**Alright! What did you think? Let me know if you want me to change anything!**


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